The room was silent.
EIGHT
Rynason stared at the dead screen for only a moment; he wheeled and ran
back to the outer room.
"Let's get those flyers up! Mara's found them, but they've brought her
down." He was already going out the door as he spoke.
Manning and the others were right behind him as he dashed out onto the
field. Rynason headed for the nearest flyer, a small runabout which had
been discarded as obsolete on the inner worlds and consigned to use out
here on the Edge, where equipment was scarce. He leaped through the port
and was shutting the door when Manning caught it.
"Where are they? What's happened to the woman?"
"They were shooting something!" Rynason snapped. The knife-scar over his
right eye stood out sharply in his anger. "She crashed--may be badly
hurt. She didn't have too much altitude, though. The hell with where she
is--_follow_ me!"
He slammed the door and squeezed into the flying seat. While he warmed
the engines he saw the others scattering across the field to the other
flyers.
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